R 5052 




mm 



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THOMAS 

MOORE'S LOVE 

POEMS 




DONE INTO A BROCHURE BY THE 
ROYCROFTERS, AT THEIR PRINT SHOP, 
WHICH IS IN EAST AURORA, ERIE 
COUNTY, NEW YORK STATE *• *^ ^ 



^ 

^^v 



Copyright 1917 
By The Roycrofters 






m -2 1313 



COME, REST IN THIS 
BOSOM 

Come, rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer, 
Though the herd have fled from thee, thy home is 

still here; 
Here still is the smile that no cloud can o'ercast. 
And a heart and a hand all thy own to the last. 

Oh, what was love made for, if 't is not the same 
Through joy and through torment, through glory 

and shame? 
I know not, I ask not, if guilt 's in that heart, 
I but know that I love thee, whatever thou art. 

Thou hast call'd me thy angel in moments of bliss, 
And thy angel I '11 be 'mid the horrors of this, 
Through the furnace, unshrinking, thy steps to 

pursue. 
And shield thee, and save thee — or perish there too! 




3 — 



T IS THE LAST ROSE 
OF SUMMER 

'T is the last rose of summer. 

Left blooming alone; 
All her lovely companions 

Are faded and gone; 
No flower of her kindred. 

No rosebud, is nigh 
To reflect back her blushes, 

Or give sigh for sigh. 

I '11 not leave thee, thou lone one! 

To pine on the stem; 
Since the lovely are sleeping. 

Go sleep thou with them. 
Thus kindly I scatter 

Thy leaves o'er the bed 
\^Tiere thy mates of the garden 

Lie scentless and dead. 

So soon may / follow. 

When friendships decay. 
And from love's shining circle 

The gems drop away. 
When true hearts lie wither'd. 

And fond ones are flown. 
Oh, who would inhabit 

This bleak world alone? 



\ 



OFT, IN THE STILLY 
NIGHT 

Oft, in the stilly night. 

Ere Slumber's chain has bound me, 
Fond Memory brings the light 
Of other days around me; 
The smiles, the tears. 
Of boyhood's years. 
The words of love then spoken; 
The eyes that shone. 
Now dimm'd and gone. 
The cheerful hearts now broken! 
Thus, in the stilly night. 

Ere Slumber's chain has bound me. 
Sad Memory brings the light 
Of other daj^s around me. 

When I remember all 

The friends, so link'd together, 
I 've seen around me fall. 

Like leaves in wintry weather; 
I feel like one. 
Who treads alone 
Some banquet-hall deserted. 
Whose lights are fled. 
Whose garlands dead. 
And all but he departed! 
Thus, in the stilly night. 

Ere Slumber's chain has bound me, 
Sad Memory brings the light 
Of other days around me. 
V _5_ 



BELIEVE ME, IF 

ALL THOSE ENDEARING 

YOUNG CHARMS 

Believe me, if all those endearing young charms. 

Which I gaze on so fondly today. 
Were to change by tomorrow, and fleet in my arms. 

Like fairy-gifts fading away. 
Thou wouldst still be adored, as this moment thou 
art. 

Let thy loveliness fade as it will, 
And around the dear ruin each wish of my heart 

Would entwine itself verdantly still. 

It is not while beauty and youth are thine own, 

And thy cheeks unprofaned by a tear. 
That the fervor and faith of a soul can be known. 

To which time will but make thee more dear; 
No, the heart that has truly loved never forgets. 

But as truly loves on to the close, 
As the sun-flower turns on her god, when he sets. 

The same look which she turn'd when he rose. 




i^^l 



'T IS SWEET TO THINK 

'T is sweet to think, that, where'er we rove. 

We are sure to find something bhssful and dear, 
And that, when we 're far from the lips we love, 

We 've but to make love to the lips we are near. 
The heart, like a tendril, accustom'd to cling. 

Let it grow where it will, can not flourish alone. 
But will lean to the nearest, and loveliest thing. 

It can twine with itself, and make closely its own. 
Then oh! what pleasure, where'er we rove. 

To be sure to find something, still, that is dear. 
And to know, when far from the lips we love. 

We 've but to make love to the lips we are near. 

'T were a shame, when flowers around us rise, 

To make light of the rest, if the rose is n't there: 
And the world 's so rich in resplendent eyes, 

'T were a pity to limit one's love to a pair. 
Love's wing and the peacock's are nearly alike. 

They are both of them bright, but they 're change- 
able too. 
And, wherever a new beam of beauty can strike. 

It will tincture Love's plume with a different hue. 
Then oh! what pleasure, where'er we rove. 

To be sure to find something, still, that is dear, 
And to know, when far from the lips we love, 

We 've but to make love to the lips we are near. 



LIBRftRY OF CONGRESS 




014 526 819 9 jl^l 




